


Admission Interview

by idanato



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Multi, Polyamorous Black Eagles Students (Fire Emblem), Spoilers for Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:08:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22136056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idanato/pseuds/idanato
Summary: This was the first time she was interviewing the child of some of her old students for admission at Garreg Mach. He was slightly older than most of the children of her friends. Those children had parents who courted, then married, and then had children. Byleth suspected this young man’s parents had done things in rather the opposite order. “You were born during the war, is that correct?” clarified the Archbishop as she stared at the young man.She watched him swallowing uncomfortably, and his dark green eyes searched the room for anywhere to look at but her. His stare settled on his large feet, “Ethereal Moon, 1181.” Almost nine months exactly after the Empire’s forces took the Monastery at Garreg Mach. The Archbishop pitied him. There was no way his parents, especially not his parents, had planned on him.“Do you remember your parents?” She remembered them, perhaps too well.The smallest smile crossed his lips, although maybe it was a smirk. The Archbishop tried to maintain her objectivity as her memories clouded her interpretation of his facial expressions. “I remember my father and both of my mothers.”
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	Admission Interview

**Lone Moon, 1197**

This was the first time she was interviewing the child of some of her old students for admission at Garreg Mach. He was slightly older than most of the children of her friends. Those children had parents who courted, then married, and then had children. Byleth suspected this young man’s parents had done things in rather the opposite order. “You were born during the war, is that correct?” clarified the Archbishop as she stared at the young man.

She watched him swallowing uncomfortably, and his dark green eyes searched the room for anywhere to look at but her. His stare settled on his large feet, “Ethereal Moon, 1181.” Almost nine months exactly after the Empire’s forces took the Monastery at Garreg Mach. The Archbishop pitied him. There was no way his parents, especially not his parents, had planned on him.

“Do you remember your parents?” She remembered them, perhaps too well. Everyone remembered them; there were those that suggested when the little boy was found hidden in the Imperial palace that he ought to be put down right away. His parents were dangerous, and he was going to grow up to be dangerous. He might try to avenge them.

The smallest smile crossed his lips, although maybe it was a smirk. The Archbishop tried to maintain her objectivity as her memories clouded her interpretation of his facial expressions. “I remember my father and both of my mothers.”

“Both?” Byleth faltered as she listened.

A fierce flush crossed his face; this was likely something he had been told was shameful about himself by the people who had taken him in. The castle of Fhirdiad could not have been a kind place to grow up for the orphaned son of such deadly Imperial generals. He was allowed to live because it was cruel to kill a child for the crimes of his parents, but he was not allowed to forget that he had been spared only by the mercy of the King and Archbishop.

“Dorothea Arnault was my birth mother, but, Petra Macneary was always Mama as far back as I can remember.” His voice was melodic, it reminded Byleth of his mother who so loved to sing.

The Archbishop had not been aware of this detail. She could only guess what the sleeping arrangements were in Enbarr. It was widely rumored the Black Eagles were all sleeping together, and maybe there was a grain of truth to that.

“What do you remember about the war?”

The young man drew in a deep breath, “I remember mama and papa, going off to battle, often. My mother usually stayed with me in Enbarr. She fought sometimes though too.”

 _Papa_ , that was rich to Byleth. That’s what her children called their father. She could barely envision Hubert von Vestra of all people going by Papa. However she also couldn’t imagine him and Dorothea coupling up after a battle, but clearly they had, so maybe Byleth didn’t know either as well as she thought.

The youth’s name had been changed when Dimitri took him to Fhidiad; one could not suffer a von Vestra to be running around still. They called him Arnault, because people had liked Dorothea and didn’t have quite as bad memories of her. His first name, after his father, was firmly not spoken by anyone. Byleth wondered vaguely if Dorothea had sang to her baby son and called him Hubie.

**Lone Moon, 1180**

It had started innocently enough. Dorothea couldn’t help but notice that everyone was dancing in celebration of the victory, everyone except one melancholic mage in the corner. The night was almost through, it was getting late. “Come on Hubie, you’re killing the mood,” she laughed as she pulled him out of the shadows.

“I do not like to dance,” said Hubert stiffly as she led him to the dance floor. “And I especially do no like people watching me dance.”

Goddess, she had made him blush she had embarrassed him so thoroughly. “Well you’re very good at it,” said Dorothea encouragingly. It was true, he was professionally trained. It was weird to have his hand on her waist as she watched the knot of his throat bob nervously and his eyes looking everywhere other than at her.

“Let me guess, you’d rather be spinning Edie around right now,” teased Dorothea.

“Not in the slightest,” said Hubert as he now finally looked at Dorothea. He drew her in a little closer to himself, “I do not think she is in a very celebratory mood.” It was true, their Emperor had asked for privacy tonight. She was mourning the professor. Dorothea was attempting to will herself to forget about the professor falling down into that abyss by celebrating being alive instead.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think you were having fun,” laughed Dorothea as one dance turned into two.

“I don’t dislike dancing with you I suppose,” admitted Hubert as he matched her dance for dance. He knew them all, though it was clear he wasn’t used to having a partner like this. After three dances he let go of her and bowed, “Thank you for the dance.”

“Going back to your shadows now?”

“It’s late, I’m, I’m going on patrol,” stammered Hubert as he tried to beat his retreat.

“Patrol! You have to be kidding me,” laughed Dorothea as she followed him out of the only partially demolished ballroom and out onto the moonlit patio.

It was chilly and Dorothea shivered as she smiled at the night sky. No wonder he spent so much time on night patrol, these views were amazing. Dorothea rarely took the time to look up at the night sky. She was used to Enbarr and all it’s lights.

“Here, you look cold,” he murmured as he gave her his heavy cloak. He was the only one of them who had quickly adopted the imperial uniform; Dorothea didn’t really think it was her style. She was going to stick with her own flashy frocks.

“So where on earth are you patrolling, the only thing this way is the Goddess Tower,” joked Dorothea as she looked at the decaying structure that lay ahead of them.

“Me, in the Goddess Tower, don’t be ridiculous,” scoffed Hubert.

“You’ve never gone in?” She knew the answer to that. There was no way Hubert would ever set foot in there. “What if it’s full of enemy combatants?”

“That would be a very interesting strategy,” sighed Hubert as he looked dubiously at the tower.

“Come on, let’s check,” giggled Dorothea as she pulled him along. It was probably the elation of surviving a battle, drinking a little too much wine, and the beautiful night sky, but Dorothea was in a mood and Hubert was fair game. Time to test if he really was saving himself for Edelgard after all.

Hubert dug his heels in, “No Dorothea, stop.” He stubbornly redirected her off her dangerous course and towards the dorms, “I think it’s time to retire, I’ll walk you back.”

“Oh how romantic,” said Dorothea sarcastically.

“I just want to get my cloak back,” insisted Hubert.

When he had it back however, he wasn’t quick to leave and Dorothea wasn’t tired. Dorothea was biting her lip as she invited him in; she could have anyone but she liked cracking the hard to get types. “It’s just a one night stand Hubie,” she promised as she lured him in closer.

He was watching her intently, “If you’re sure; you realize this isn’t going to make me suddenly dote on you.”

“I would ask Linhardt to check if you had a brain tumor if you did,” teased Dorothea.

“I didn’t think I was your type,” murmured Hubert as he kissed her.

“I didn’t think I was yours,” she winked as she locked her door.

“Maybe there’s a lot we have to learn about each other,” he said in a surprisingly tender voice.

**Garland Moon, 1181**

It was raining all the time. Dorothea and Petra giggled as they wove together the floral crowns this time of year was known for. “Are you feeling any better?” asked Petra with concern.

Dorothea had been feeling rather off for weeks. “I’m fine,” she insisted. No she was not, she felt terrible. Tea she used to love turned her stomach. She threw up before battle, most people did, but she did every time. It sucked.

“What if it is something serious? You should be at least checking with Manuela,” encouraged Petra. They cheerfully exchanged the crowns. Dorothea really liked Petra, she was quickly becoming her best friend in the army.

Manuela was nodding along as she listened to Dorothea’s symptoms. “Well, honey, are you having sex?”

Dorothea blushed and smirked, “Uh, now and then.”

“When was your last period?” asked Manuela.

Dorothea paled, “Well, we’re at war, I’m stressed, I haven’t been exactly paying attention.”

“That’s understandable, but when’s the last one you remember having?”

Dorothea felt her heart racing, “Oh Seiros, it had to have been, oh no, Saint Indech Day because I used my cramps as an excuse to get out of choir, oh no.” Dorothea held her face in her hands as she did the math.

“Do you know who the father is?” asked Manuela gently. Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Dorothea only had one possible candidate in that.

Dorothea clutched the white rose crown in her hands as she stood in Hubert’s office. He was always so busy. She cleared her throat, “I have something for you.”

He did not look up as he continued with whatever letter he was writing, “And that would be?”

Dorothea put the crown on his head. That got his attention, “Is this an attempt at a joke?” He adjusted it on his head and pretended to bat his eyelashes as if to humor her.

“I wish,” muttered Dorothea as she composed herself. “I’m um, I’m pregnant. And uh, you’re the only person I’ve been with in the last couple months, so, surprise.”

If Hubert was pale before he’d gone ghost-like at that news. “Oh.” His knee was shaking up and down with nervousness as he drummed his gloved fingers on the table, “Oh, well, what do you wish to do about this?”

“I’m used to just thinking about myself,” admitted Dorothea. She could not help but wonder what kind of mother she’d make. She swallowed with unease, “But thanks to you now I’m wondering what it must be like to be wholly devoted to another person.” Dorothea tried to appear upbeat and easy going even though inside she was panicking. She forced a laugh, “Maybe Edie will command you to marry me.”

Hubert took a deep breath, “She doesn’t have to command me to do anything, I’ll just do it.” He paused, “Assuming that’s what you want. If you don’t, I would understand. I’ll make sure your provided for either way.” He didn’t sound very sold on the idea but of all people Dorothea knew Hubert would be good on his word when it came to an ally. He looked like he was going to be sick, but she supposed he kind of always looked that way.

Petra was holding Dorothea’s hand to comfort her friend. Dorothea was cursing herself for her foolishness, “Goddess, now I’ve gone and become my mother.”

“What do you mean by that?” Petra’s voice was calming and gentle.

Dorothea wiped her eyes, “My mother had an affair with a noble, and then he turned us out on the streets. I’m a just a commoner, my goal has always been to try to secure a future for myself, you know, try to marry money.” She blew her nose, this sucked hard, “I’ve just been dating one well-to-do man after another, and it’s not like I ever have a second date.”

“Marry money? I do not think I understand, money would be a bad husband,”

“Pretty much,” laughed Dorothea bitterly as she felt at her stomach. This was the thing she promised herself she’d never do. This was so sloppy, so dangerous. She hated herself for this.

“But you treat me well. I have so much gratitude. Why do you show me such friendliness when I am not money?”

“Oh Petra, no, this isn’t the same thing. I love being friends with you, I hope we’re close for a long time,” whispered Dorothea, horrified by the thought that Petra might think she was using her for her wealth.

“Yes, I have that hope too,” smiled Petra as she took Dorothea’s hand. “But, I have also been thinking what is good for me.”

“Oh,” whispered Dorothea as her heart fell. Who possibly wanted to be friends with the knocked up camp whore? A princess had appearances to keep up.

“And still I am thinking we should be friends,” said Petra with conviction.

Dorothea could not help but laugh with relief, “Is that because we’re both total trouble for Imperial nobility?”

“Yes, we both have troubles,” grimaced Petra.

“Feels good knowing that together we can irritate that many people,” sighed Dorothea as she thought about Hubert’s face when he got the news.

Petra frowned, “I do not think you are irritating Hubert. I am thinking he was just surprised, maybe he was being ashamed that he put you in such a position.”

“I’m pretty sure I put him in this position,” muttered Dorothea as she thought back on the night. He would have completely walked away if she hadn’t been so persistent. She felt like an idiot.

**Verdant Rain Moon, 1181**

It wasn’t a very exciting wedding. Edie didn’t command it, and Hubert had made it clear he’d do what Dorothea wanted. If she didn’t want to have the baby, they’d get rid of it. If she did want it, they’d take care of it. If she wanted to have it, but not raise it, he’d find some good family to do the task. He was hard to read, it was difficult to understand what he wanted other than to keep working on the war. In the end they settled on marrying and attempting some normalcy, even though this wasn’t very normal at all.

They signed a lot of paperwork. There was a painfully formal prenuptial agreement that Hubert was apologetic about, but it at least ensured that if she ended up totally hating him she’d always have some sort of compensation for the miserable position he’d landed her in. He didn’t seem very optimistic about the longevity of this marriage.

She never wanted to be a pregnant bride, but here she was. She decided she might as well just embrace it and didn’t dare wear white. She wore red instead, a scarlet dress that she should have really let out a bit more. There were a lot of whispers from people who didn’t know them well, and the people who did know them well weren’t especially enthusiastic about the pairing. Edelgard was polite but distant as usual. Ferdinand was trying to understand why anyone would have a one night stand.

Petra was nice to them both. She taught them a Brigid dance at the reception that wasn’t for two people but for many. It was easily the highlight of the night. Dorothea tried to think about that when she thought about her wedding, and not the awful words about her and Hubert. Nobles whispered ‘ _slut_ ’ under the breath about her, and people joked that Hubert should watch out because he’d killed his own father and patricide might run in the family.

They shared a bed chamber although they slept quite apart. Hubert made a joke about having already consummated the marriage that didn’t end up being very funny. The fact was they didn’t know each other very well at all, and the war made it hard to spend much time together. Dorothea focused on preparing for their child, and not on how ignored she felt.

**Ethereal Moon, 1181**

If anyone had a doubt this was Hubert’s child, those suspicions were quickly laid to rest when he was born. Their son looked painfully like a von Vestra. He was born on Saint Cichol day and Hubert remarked this was the best gift anyone had ever gotten him. For the first time since the war started, Hubert actually missed a battle to help Dorothea handle their cranky little newborn. The infant found being born very disagreeable and let them know often.

“My looks and my personality? Oh dear, what are we in for,” joked Hubert sleepily as he woke up for the forth time that night. Hubert was good at going on little sleep, he seemed to even like waking up to fuss with their son and tend to his needs.

Dorothea sighed and fed their tiny son, “He’s just practicing his singing.”

“Unfortunately he got my voice and not yours,” said Hubert as he propped up his head to watch them.

Dorothea shushed him and prayed that wasn’t true.

**Horsebow Moon, 1182**

Petra and Hubert spent a lot of time going out to various battles. Dorothea was relegated to healing from the back where it was safe, or worse, left behind in Enbarr completely. Petra and Hubert would excitedly describe the battles to Dorothea and even though she hated battle, she was scared for them, she was scared of being left alone.

She supposed she wasn’t truly alone. Her son had gone from cranky with colic to thankfully a very happy little boy as he got a little older. Petra adored babysitting him, which was nice because Dorothea and Hubert were struggling to find time alone to really get to know each other. They had awkward tea times where they talked about themselves in an attempt to get to know each other better. They didn’t have sex because they were still getting used to just kissing each other. They often just kissed their son instead. Dorothea felt like she was doing a decent job and Hubert was actually invested in their family, not just monetarily, but with his precious limited free time. He’d write letters with little Hubie balanced on his knee, sometimes tickling the boy’s nose with the end of his quill, or trusting him with state secrets shared in cooing baby talk as he wrote convert correspondence.

It was easier with Petra around honestly, she liked them both a lot and they liked her. She made things less awkward and more like they were just three best friends hanging out rather than a couple that was still a little uncomfortable with each other and their third wheel friend. Dorothea and Petra celebrated their birthdays together, ages 21 and 18 respectively. Hubert got them each a present; Dorothea received the nicest pair of earrings she’d ever seen, and Petra got a nice hunting knife.

Hubert suggested quietly one evening that he saw the way Dorothea looked at Petra, and he wouldn’t fault her if she pursued the princess instead of trying to force things with him. He understood her attraction, he admired Petra too. Dorothea considered it but then said no. She didn’t want to hurt him. They were like new lovers, rather uncertain as they tested the waters with each other but getting better with time. Things were moving slow, and Dorothea found she was enjoying the strange reverse courtship. Her mind wandered to Petra often, maybe if things had been different she would be with her instead, but alas, here they were and she would make the most of it. 

**Pegasus Moon, 1182**

It all went down rather organically. It was freezing out and Petra didn’t want to walk all the way back to her room in the snow after she’d spent the evening chatting with the pair and playing with their son. Hubert offered her the bed with Dorothea, he could take the couch, but Petra was too proud to do that. Dorothea watched them both, two people she desired to be closest with and suggested not innocently that it would be warmest if they all just shared the bed. Hubert seemed caught off guard but not opposed and Petra rather liked the idea. It was cold out and it was so warm in bed, especially with three people instead of two. Well actually four before the night was through because little Hubie had a bad dream and crawled in between Hubert and Petra, although he was looking for Dorothea. He eventually found her as he crawled across the tangle of his parents.

The snows cleared eventually, but Petra wasn’t too interested in leaving.

A husband, a wife, and their lover. It was a scandal for sure but none of the three particularly cared. Hubie was learning words. Papa, mommy, mama.

**Lone Moon, 1185**

There was news, bad news. It was reported their old professor had miraculously returned and she was with the forces of Faerghus. Hubert told them this hard won intelligence in fear. Petra frowned, “We will be victorious.” Her pride was too strong to consider any other outcome.

They lost Ferdinand first. He was in Myrrdin trying to hold the bridge with Lorenz Hellman Gloucester. The lovers died together.

Dorothea was devastated. Hubert was incensed. Petra was resolved.

**Blue Sea Moon, 1186**

A battle occurred at Gronder field. Hubert forced Petra to retreat. She was trying to save Bernadetta from the flames, but Dedue was going to kill her if she tried to stab him again. Hubert was injured too, far too injured to warp and save Bernadetta himself. Her cries followed the pair as they struggled off the field. She would continue to haunt their dreams long after they got back to Enbarr. 

Edelgard was injured too. Morale was at an all time low since the war began. It was actually looking like they might lose. Linhardt and Caspar accepted their orders to go to Fort Merceus. They needed to stop this march towards Enbarr.

**Seige of Enbarr, Verdant Rain Moon, 1186**

“Papa?” Hubie was drawn to the candle still lit at the desk. He rubbed his sleepy eyes as his father scooped him up and put him on his knee. “What are you doing?”

“Writing letters,” said Hubert softly.

“To who?” Hubie looked at the desk full of papers. There were many affairs to settle, many matters to lay to rest, and little time to see it all through.

Hubert sighed and held up one, “This one’s for you.” The one that was hardest to write of all.

“I can’t read,” whispered Hubie.

“You’ll learn someday,” promised Hubert. He picked up another one, with much different contents, “This one is a just in case we need it.” It was a contingency plan. There were bad people at work in Fodlan and Hubert knew a good deal about them. He wanted them gone, but it was looking less and less likely he was going to be able to clean them up himself. He swallowed with ill ease, “I will give these letters to you to keep safe, can you do that?” His son nodded. “You will be safe in here tomorrow, but stay away from the windows and do not look outside, will you promise me that?” Hubie continued to nod along agreeably. He was a happy little boy but even he was not immune to the fear that clung to the city like a shroud. He heard his mother crying as she tried to sing him his lullaby, he saw his mama preparing her war paint and sharpening her sword. He saw his papa pouring over tomes.

“Come, it is time to sleep,” said Hubert as he carried his son back to the bed with Dorothea and Petra. The four of them curled up together for one last night.

He had begged Edelgard to take his son, and get the hell away. This war was lost, they had lost. She said it wasn’t over until it was over. So he would fight with all he had. All three of them would. They would hold the city, they had to. 

He tried to be brave, but his words rang empty in his ears, “Let’s give this Savior King a royal welcome!” He hoped his promised reinforcements would actually show.

Dorothea was standing near the Mittelfrank, a place that was like a second home. Petra was holding the eastern section of the city. He could see them both from where he was holding the entrance to the palace. He was the last defense, they were the front. He didn’t like being in the back but everyone else he loved in the world was inside so he would hold this place with ever fiber of his being.

Petra was struck down first. She called herself the will of the Emperor. She was broken and cast aside like she had meant nothing. She had been something to Dorothea and Hubert.

Dorothea screamed out as it happened. Then it was her turn. She fired her spells until she was exhausted. She begged the professor to kill her quickly, and the professor obliged her.

Hubert watched his lover die, and then his wife. Their reinforcements weren’t coming, House Varley would not make it here in time. He kept looking up at the windows of the palace hoping that his son remembered the promise made in the dark of the night.

Hubert’s gloves burned off as he cast well beyond what a normal mage ought to. He felt defiant as he fought through his injuries. This had never been about him, it had always been about Edelgard, but today Hubert had a little more investment in the future he was fighting for. In the end it was Dimitri himself that ran Hubert through with his lance as if he were nothing.

A familiar face knelt down beside him as he lay bleeding out in the rubble. “Any last words?” asked Mercedes gently. She was going to heal him to death; Hubert had always loved irony.

He reached into his uniform and could barely see in his periphery that Felix was drawing his sword. Hubert produced his room key, “My son, my son is in my chambers. Please spare him.”

All he had left was hoping for their mercy. Could they give it to him when he had given none to them?

Mercedes looked shocked and uncertain as she took the key and then cast Nosferatu.

**Lone Moon, 1197**

Byleth produced the letter _To our son_. The other letter had been instructions on how to destroy a dangerous group operating the dark corners of Fodlan. Hubert, for all the hate people held for him, had at least had some honor. He didn’t want to see the world burn completely.

“This was left for you, by your father,” said the Archbishop as she handed the letter over. She’d been keeping it safe these last eleven years.

Young Hubert studied the letter but didn’t open it in front of her, “I remember.”

“Well, I see no reason you should not join the new class at Garreg Mach,” said Byleth as she looked him over. “Your parents were very good students, it will be a tough legacy to carry on.” There were people who were going to disagree but it was not their choice to make, it was hers.

“Will you tell me more about them, like how they were when they were here?” He had Dorothea’s eyes and they were finally brave enough to look into Byleth’s.

Byleth nodded and tried not to lose her composure. She knew his life wasn’t easy as he constantly heard the evil things his parents had done in the service of their Emperor. They had loved him though, as much as they had loved each other. They had done good things too, and Byleth made sure she would tell him all about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a sad little twist on the supports these three share


End file.
